


Old Friends

by Karna97



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, R Plus L Equals J, arya pov, per usual lmao, sucking at tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-06-30 19:52:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15758547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karna97/pseuds/Karna97
Summary: With Daenerys Targaryen's arrival at Winterfell, dragons appear in the North for the first time in centuries.OrChronicles of Arya's encounters with Dany's children.





	1. The Dragon and the She-Wolf

Arya hears them before she sees them.

She's standing on the ramparts of Winterfell looking out towards the far north, when the roars of beasts that hadn't been heard for centuries reverberated through the Northern air, causing the very stones of the ancient keep to tremble. For more than a few moments, everything around her goes as silent as the snows falling above her, with only the winds of winter and the flapping of wings making themselves known. Arya turned her attentions south, and is struck dumb by the sight that comes to greet her. Gradually coming into view is a black behemoth that could only be described as Balerion the Dread come again. As it approached, eyes like brilliant rubies locked inextricably with eyes of flint grey, and Arya felt the flow of blood in her veins come to a grinding halt.

 _Oh gods,_ Arya couldn't help but think to herself, dread churning in her gut. _I'll be eaten before I even catch a glimpse of Jon._

The black beast came to descend onto the ramparts not far from her, the weight of his landing and the gust from his wings disturbing the settled snows and knocking it in all directions. His eyes were still observing her, judging whether she were friend or foe or food. He slowly stretched his neck out towards her, sniffing her. The heat that bellowed out of his nose was almost singeing hot at this closeness. Arya wasn't even sure she was breathing, her heart pounding like muffled horse hooves against her chest. She tamped down on her growing panic with all the willpower she could muster, not allowing herself to buckle under the intensity of his stare.

 _Be calm as still water. Fear cuts deeper than swords_ , Arya reminded herself, Syrio's words echoing in her head like a haunted mantra. _Fear cuts deeper than swords, fear cuts deeper than swords, fear cuts deeper than swords..._

For all her training with the Faceless Men, the dragon's expression was indecipherable to her. He made no move to attack her, but he continued to regard her with caution. _That...or regard me as prey_ , Arya thought, her suppressed panic leaking out. Before her was a creature of legend, fire made flesh. Seeing the dried up skulls of his ancestors was one thing, but seeing one alive and breathing was another matter entirely. Despite her possibly perilous situation, the more she thought about her past life, the more her fear began to give way to awe and excitement. In her youth, the tales of dragons and the warrior women who rode them into battle were her respite, her escape from the bindings that came with being a lady-in-the-making. They inspired her to be free, to be bold, to be daring, but most importantly to be herself; to pursue her dreams of becoming a warrior herself. And in her brief time in King's Landing, those decrepit dragon skulls locked away in the darkness were her companions in a stranger's land. _Yes_ , Arya remembered, nostalgia curling her lips into a small smile. _We were like old friends, weren't we?_

Before she could question herself, Arya took off a glove and cautiously held her hand out. An invitation. She thought back to Nymeria, her wild wolf who she had lost almost as soon as she'd found her. _Only she was a direwolf, and this is a dragon._ Arya could only hope that her intentions were clear to the black beast, that her instincts weren't about to lose her an arm, or more. But no small part of her thought rather foolishly that it would be worth it, that opportunities like these to touch and feel creatures of myth seldom came by. Not for a girl of the North such as she. 

The dragon finally broke eye contact with her, looking down at her extended hand with curiosity. As before, he sniffed it, and Arya almost thought she saw recognition flash across his eyes, but it was gone so quickly she was almost certain she imagined it. After a moment, the dragon settled with giving her hand a small nudge before turning away with a huff and flying off the ramparts, shrieking into the distance. A second, green and smaller beast followed behind the black closely, off to hunt or to settle down somewhere in the Wolfswood, perhaps. Arya turned the palm that the black dragon had nudged, still trembling somewhat, and was surprised at the heat that she briefly felt lay beneath his scales. She couldn't help but grin to herself with childish delight, a feeling she thought had been lost to her after the years of hardship and torment. She knew she was already addicted to their touch, to the energy that poured from them.

 _Winter is here_ , Arya thought. _But perhaps they will be the remedy to the bite of the cold._

Her thought processes were cut off when someone bellowed "Open the gates!" from the entrance of the keep. Her heart grew ten sizes, already knowing who would emerge on the other side. She tightly grasped the hilt of her trusty Needle, the memento of her favourite sibling and the symbol of the love she held for him. With a sense of anticipation she hadn't felt since she was a little girl, Arya ran from the ramparts and towards the courtyard, eager to reunite with her beloved brother and gauge the queen who had birthed creatures of legend.


	2. Snow and Silver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya evaluates the Dragon Queen, and comes face to face with her children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wew, this was unexpectedly long lmao. I wanted the progression to be as natural and thorough as I could make it, and ended up enjoying the write up way too much. Hopefully you enjoy it as much as I did!

Arya didn't know what to make of the Dragon Queen.

She looked so utterly...foreign, to anyone she's ever met. As far as her memory served, the person closest in appearance that Arya had seen was Edric Dayne. But while his features were certainly uncommon, with his pale blonde hair and his dark blue eyes, they were not necessarily extraordinary. Not like those Daenerys Targaryen showcased. Her locks were silver beams of moonlight cascading down her back and her skin was pale ivory. The white snows of the North welcomed her like family, and in her white fur coat Arya had to admit that she painted the image of an ice queen. And yet at the same time, among the Northrons with their browns and grays and blacks, with their stern countenances and gruffness adorning their features, she couldn't look any more out of place. In Arya's opinion, however, her most striking quality was her eyes. If her black beast's eyes were burning rubies, hers were stormy, gleaming amethysts. She looked every bit the blood of Old Valyria, the last scion of House Targaryen.

She carried herself with all the grace and dignity that would be expected from a queen and a conqueror. Despite the cold and almost hostile reception that she was welcomed with, her facade of calm nonchalance refused to slip. She was a slip of a woman, not much taller than Arya herself. But Arya could recognize the steel that belied her melodic voice, the subdued fire in her lilac gaze. _She's been through her share of trials and tribulations_ , Arya though to herself. _But then again, so have we._ Sansa came to her mind; her sister, who was so different to who she once was that she was practically unrecognizable. Her beauty could turn heads in any court, and she could play the role of a lady as though she were born to it. But her eyes were ice, and her tongue was silver. Where Jon and Arya had their blades, and Bran had his magic, Sansa had her wits - she was every bit a she-wolf of Winterfell as Arya herself. And so when the Dragon Queen and the Lady of Winterfell came to make each other's acquaintances, Arya could feel the tension clotting the air, the silent battle of wills being waged with every word and glance exchanged. Arya could tell that Jon felt it too; his eyes flicked back and forth between the two as though one would suddenly pull a knife on the other. 

Arya herself kept her greetings brief, never divulging more than was necessary. _Jon may have trusted her enough to swear her fealty, but Stark men have a fatal knack for being too trusting_ , Arya thought, bitterness curling in her mouth. _Father. Robb._ They believed that everyone abided by the same set of morals and principles that they did...believed that even their worst enemies wouldn't think of doing the unthinkable. And now they're dead. Headless. _And Jon is more honourable than anyone_ , she knew. No, the god of Death had taken enough from Arya in the last decade to last her more than a lifetime. _He will not take my brother from me too while I still draw breath. **Never.**_ She would observe her from the shadows, she decided, would wait for a better, more private opportunity to determine what cloth Daenerys was cut from. Deep down, she hoped that she was different to those who came before - but she would do what needed to be done if she was a threat to her pack.

\-------

Since her arrival, Daenerys hadn't yet given her reason to slip poison into her drink. Whether that meant that she was trustworthy, or simply that Arya wasn't looking hard enough, she wasn't sure. When the time called for it, she would wear the faces she needed to hide in plain sight. Whether that be as a simple maid, an old woman, a common girl...she had a mask for almost every purpose. She tried not to face-change whenever possible though, knowing how disturbed Sansa was by them. _I don't want to even imagine what Jon's reaction would be to them_ , Arya thought with a pang of shame. _We all had to do what was needed to survive. I'm not the Arya he left behind all those years ago, just as he's not the same Jon. But how different is too different?_

The Dragon Queen spent much of her time among her own people. Her armies only further showed how different her world was to theirs. _Seven hells, even within her armies her soldiers are like night and day._ They were strange warriors with bronze skin and thick accents. The Dothraki horde had only been spoken of in stories meant to frighten children, while the Unsullied had been boasted to be the greatest infantry in the world. Where the Unsullied were solemn and sensible, the Dothraki was boisterous and brash. On more than one occasion, Arya's eyes had been greeted to pairs - sometimes groups - of Dothraki rutting out in open tents as though it was the most normal thing in the world. It was said that the Unsullied was the only force in Essos capable of repelling the Dothraki. _And Daenerys Targaryen has tamed them both,_ Arya thought to herself. She made a mental note to ask her how she'd managed to do that sometime. _At least, if I don't have to kill her._

Arya could admit, if nothing else, that Daenerys seemed to genuinely care for her people. She talked with them like they were family, and gave them whatever they needed whenever she could. Her true, toothy smiles were rare, but when they made an appearance they illuminated her face like a newly lit flame. _Like Jon,_ Arya mused. Jon was always sullen, and never had much to be happy about, but Arya prided herself in her ability to pull stellar grins out of him without much effort. The memory of them were her treasures, locked away in the warmest place in her heart she could find. _Jon is the best person I know and yet he was judged and ridiculed all the same_ , Arya contemplated. _Mayhaps the queen isn't all that different?_ Nevertheless, Arya still believed it a wiser decision to keep her distance. She couldn't afford to let her guard down. What was left of her family could be the price for complacency. But so far, the Queen hadn't given her much reason to worry beyond the crimes her family had committed before she was born.

\-------

It was the hour of the wolf when Arya spotted her sneaking out of her chambers like a thief in the night.

Her dragons had relocated to Winterfell's godswood, and with quick but light feet Arya saw her, wearing nothing but a cloak, boots and a white woolen nightgown, pacing out of the keep. Immediately Arya's brain started to flick through numerous scenarios that could be unfolding. Her first and most immediate thought was that she had waited for most of the keep to be asleep so that she could use her dragons to burn Winterfell to the ground uncontested. Arya's hackles had raised in fear and anger, but no insignificant part of her felt disappointed and betrayed that yet another prospective Southron ruler had taken her family's trust for granted. _Never trust a Targaryen,_ Arya reminded herself. _Only trust your family._ Still, even with these thoughts spinning in her head, she remained as calm as she could be, kept her breathing silent. She followed her closely like a spectre, one hand on her dagger, ready to end her world at the soonest possible moment if needed. But then, peculiarly, Daenerys slowed her gait markedly, forcing Arya to come to a sudden halt. Their footsteps fell out of sync, and Daenerys, hearing the second set of feet crunching in the snow for a split second, turned around to see who was following her. Arya, as nimble as always, had already retreated into the shadows of the trees. The moonshine from above cloaked Daenerys like a veil, giving her silver hair and ivory skin an ethereal glow. _She really is as beautiful as they say_ , she couldn't help but think.

She was still standing there, looking around. It took a moment for Arya to realize that it wasn't herself that Daenerys was looking for. She wasn't even looking in her general direction anymore.

"Ghost," she whispered into the darkness. "Ghost?"

 _Ghost?_ , Arya wondered. _Jon's direwolf?_

Just on cue, the white wolf trod out soundlessly from the cover of the pine trees and evergreens, intelligent garnet eyes fixed on the Targaryen queen. He was utterly massive, the size of a pony, and almost as large as Nymeria had been the last time she'd seen her. There wasn't a hint of fear in Daenerys' demeanor as he approached. Eagerly, she bent down only slightly to touch his snout with her nose, and ran her hands through his mane, showering him with affection that the direwolf was evidently eating up. Suffice to say, Arya was utterly befuddled.

 _Ghost is never this familiar with anyone,_ Arya thought in shock. _With nobody but us Starks, and Jon's friend Sam. Who is she to him?_

Daenerys herself had one of her toothy grins plastered onto her face. With the whiteness of the snow all around them, Ghost and the queen sharing such a candid moment made quite a vision.

"Is your master at the end of this path Ghost? Could you lead me to him?"

Without further prompting, the wolf led her in the direction of the heart tree, Daenerys' hand still in his fur. Arya's fear from earlier gave way to bottomless curiosity and wonderment. If anyone knew whether a person could be trusted, it was a direwolf. Their instincts can't be underestimated. From the looks of it, Ghost didn't simply trust this woman - he was clearly very comfortable with her. Whoever the queen was to gain Ghost's approval in such a short span of time, it was at least evident that Arya may have looked at her too pessimistically. Arya figured whatever the answer was, she'd find it at the center of the godswood.

As she followed them, Ghost suddenly stopped, and looked directly in Arya's direction. Arya breath caught in her throat, hiding behind a tree as Daenerys stopped to look at Ghost.

"Ghost? What's wrong?" She followed Ghost's gaze into the darkness of the forest. "Is someone there...?"

Arya stayed still as a statue, hoping that Ghost wouldn't give her away. _I won't cause any trouble Ghost_ , Arya pleaded in her head, _but please, just keep walking!_

"Ghost?", Daenerys asked with increasing trepidation.

Ghost seemed to take the silent hint, and from the corner of her eye she saw him nod to Daenerys and kept walking down the path towards the godswood. The queen gave one last look back, before hesitantly continuing onward, keeping Ghost closer than before. Arya, giving herself a few moments to let her heartbeat stabilize, followed them once more.

At the end of the path, Arya was hit with an image she didn't think she'd ever forget. At the center of the godswood, Jon sat on the rock their father always used to settle down on, to pray or clean Ice or to find solace. It didn't even look like he was aware of Daenerys' approach, too preoccupied petting the snout of the green dragon who laid next to him with a look of quiet awe on his features. Next to the green dragon, on the other side of the heart tree, was the black beast she'd met the first day the queen came to Winterfell. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully until he sensed his mother's presence and came awake with a yawn to turn to her. The pale light of the moon reflected off their scales beautifully, obsidian and emerald gleaming with a soft luster. Jon seemed to notice the black's stirring, and broke his attention with the green with no small amount of effort to find the queen and his wolf coming near.

"You seem to be enjoying yourself," Daenerys said with a hint of a smile in her voice. 

Jon beamed right at her. For a moment, Arya thought as though her head had turned into a pool of water. 

"Your dragons make good company. Well, as good as they can be. I'm pretty content with just stroking 'em. Warms my palms like little else can."

"Well, while your wolf isn't fire made flesh, he's certainly a treat to run my fingers through."

As if in response to the compliment, Ghost let out a quiet huff, sat on his hind legs and puffed his chest out, earning a girlish giggle by the woman he had escorted. 

Jon stared at Daenerys with profound softness before giving her a smirk and patting the space of the rock next to him.

"Are you just going to stand there?"

The queen puffed out a laugh before she came over to sit next to him. Jon brushed the snows away and laid out his cloak on top of it for Daenerys to sit on, far closer than what propriety would dictate. Ghost followed and settled by their feet before closing his eyes.

Arya watched, dumbfounded, as her brother wrapped his arm around the queen and locked his lips with hers in a languid kiss, before he settled his chin on her head.

 _Oh_ was all that could come to Arya's mind, as she witnessed the two rulers get more comfortable than they had been since they arrived.

"Good evening my King," she purred at him. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting for too long."

"Not at all," Jon said, his nose in her hair. "Was only a few minutes."

He intertwined her fingers with his free hand, and pulled back to look at her properly. "How have things been? I hope the lords have been treating you well."

"Well _enough_. Or at least as well as I would have expected," Daenerys said. "They're cold but cordial. It doesn't look like they want to kill me at least. But they won't be the first to start conversation either."

Jon sighed and closed his eyes briefly, before giving Daenerys a small smile. "We know it will take time. You have to understand..."

"You don't have to explain Jon, I'm well aware of the atrocities my father committed," Daenerys said bitterly. 

"Yes, but not just your family, Dany."

 _Dany?_ Arya thought with a start. _Gods they're in love, aren't they?_ Once again, Arya's mind fumbled though the myriad things that could go wrong. Arya knew little of love and romance, but knew enough to know that love could complicate things as much as it could solve things. For his brother's sake, she hoped it ended well for him. The gods knew she was beyond being able to do anything about it. She could protect him from steel and wights, but she didn't know what the cure was for a broken heart.

Jon laid Dany's head on his shoulder. "Your father hasn't been the only monster to torment the North. Robert, for all the love my father had for him, unintentionally dragged him to die in a pit of lions and snakes. The Lannisters were directly responsible for the death of half my family. They made the fucking Boltons the Wardens of the North after they helped betray and slaughter my brother and his mother and bannermen at the Red Wedding. They've suffered far too much at the hands of Southron rulers to ever accept them so easily."

"I know," Dany said quietly. "It's why I didn't let you expose your pledge of fealty to your lords, Jon. I didn't want them to turn against you. You don't deserve that."

"I don't want to lie to them, Dany," Jon told her. "I don't want to appear afraid of supporting you. And I don't want you to think I'm ashamed of you."

Dany looked up to him then, and tenderly stroked his bearded jaw with her fingers. "I know you aren't ashamed, Jon. But if we're going to be united in this fight against the dead, the last thing we should do is spark dissent among your bannermen."

She paused. "You were right, you know?" Jon raised an eyebrow in question. "The day we met, at Dragonstone. You told me you wouldn't kneel because you didn't know me. Well, your bannermen don't know me either. Not as you do, they haven't been given the chance to. I want to prove that I'm worth putting their trust in. And if and when that happens, feel free to make your loyalties public. You know it's for the best, and you wouldn't be lying either. Simply...withholding the truth."

He seemed hesitant at first, but he finally nodded in acceptance. At that, he kissed her neck, a cheeky grin etched itself on Jon's face. "I don't think I'd be able to keep my sword in its sheath if my men got to know you as well as I have."

 _Not at all what I'd like to think of my brother doing,_ Arya said with a grimace. It would be nearly impossible to believe if she wasn't looking right at it. Jon could barely look in a woman's general direction before he left for the Night's Watch. And she doubted Jon would have gotten any experience during that time either, what with their vows tying them down. How did he go from acting a blushing maid around common tavern wenches to being close and personal with arguably the world's most beautiful woman?

"Jon, be serious!", Dany tried to say sternly, but the laughter in her voice was apparent. It also looked as though Jon wasn't done with just her neck; his hands were drifting, drifting, drifting downwards to a clear destination that Arya wasn’t eager to see reached. 

_In the godswood, Jon?_ Arya thought with consternation. _Really?_

She decided to turn back and not get involved in the explicit show that was to come, until she stepped on a twig and snapped it. In the quiet of the godswood, the sound echoed through the air, making Arya inwardly wince. Jon and Dany had clearly heard it, the two of them breaking away from each other in an instant.

"What was that?", Daenerys asked sharply. Ghost was staring at Arya with one eye, with a strange look that seemed to shout 'I gave you a way out and you still mess it up?'. But he wasn't the only one who had spotted her; the two dragons fixed eyes of bronze and crimson on her, a growl vibrating deep in the green's neck.

"Rhaegal?", Jon called out to the emerald beast. "You feel somebody there, boy?"

Knowing that the jig was up, Arya slowly walked into view, looking at Jon until he caught her eye.

"A-Arya?", Jon exclaimed. Even in the pale light, she could see the red flush flaring up his neck. "How long have you been there?"

Arya figured that at this point she might as well have fun at their expense. "Long enough to need to take essence of nightshade to try and banish the images of you getting rather...hands-on with the Dragon Queen."

The both of them were so red at this point that one could be forgiven for assuming all their blood had rushed to their heads. _Better than for it to rush to other places_ , Arya thought with a smirk and a shrug. 

Dany turned an accusing eye to Ghost. "Is that why you turned around on our way here Ghost? You knew she was there?"

Ghost did nothing but hide his eyes under his paws like a petulant child. Arya couldn't help but chuckle at it. 

“So,” Arya began, wiggling her pointer finger between the two of them. “How long has this been going on?”

Jon and Dany looked at each other, as if looking for permission from the other to tell the truth. In the end, Dany gave a single nod to Jon before he turned back to Arya.

“Well, we had become increasingly familiar with each other since we met on Dragonstone,” Jon explained. “But we only became…intimate, on the ship to White Harbour. This is still new for the both of us, and the last thing we wish to deal with is everyone around us giving their opinion on it. So, we’ve decided to keep it private for now.” 

Jon paused, forehead crinkling in irritation. “There are also political reasons as to why we’d rather keep this between us while we can, as you can imagine.”

 _I don’t have to imagine_ , Arya thought, rage bubbling up inside her. She saw Robb’s desecrated corpse with her own eyes – she knows how lovely and so very lethal love can be. Robb was so young when he was thrust into the position of King in the North, not much older than Arya was now. Breaking his oath with the Freys was a mistake, from a pragmatic point of view, but he didn’t deserve what happened to him. He didn’t deserve to have his name tarnished, his name dragged through the dirt by his countrymen. ‘The King who Lost the North’, they called him. ‘Took up with a foreign whore’, they accused him of. How could he be treated with such venom simply for falling in love at the wrong place at the wrong time? Arya would behead all his dissenters herself if she could.

And now Jon had done much of the same with a queen who donned a name unsavoury in the North, a queen who had spent her entire life in exile. More than that – he’d sworn himself to her. How would that look? They’d undoubtedly see him as repeating past mistakes, but not only that – they might even accuse him of being seduced into relinquishing the crown and ‘losing the North’, yet again for the sake of a foreign woman. Would he ever recover from that? Arya hoped she’d never come to know.

“It’s for the best,” Arya decided, looking at Daenerys. “I would be lying if I said I wasn’t wary of you to start off with. You know we have good reason to be. But if Jon trusts you, and Ghost trusts you, then I suppose I can try to trust you as well.”

Dany gave her a small nod and a small smile. “Thank you, Lady Arya.”

“I’m not a lady.”

“So I’ve heard,” Dany said with a short giggle. “Jon’s told me much about you. You two were always close according to him.”

“The closest,” Arya responded, sharing a soft look with her brother. 

“Arya, you have nothing to worry about from me. I meant what I said – I’m here to save your home and prove myself to your people. Whether we live or die in this battle, we’ll do it together. You have my word.”

“Words are wind, but I believe you.” Arya took a step forward. “And as Jon’s sister, I feel obliged to warn you that if you hurt him, nobody will find your body once I’m done.”

“ _Arya!_ ”, Jon shouted, but Dany could only smile at her.

“It’s nice to see siblings that protect each other,” Dany said, a hint of sadness tinging her voice. Jon reached out and rubbed the back of her palm with the thumb of his own comforting hand. “Your brother has nothing to fear from me either, Arya.”

“Then it’s good to make your acquaintance, Your Grace,” Arya said, holding a hand out for Dany to take.

“Daenerys,” Dany replied, shaking it. “Call me Daenerys.”

“Not Dany?”, she retorted with a smirk. The smirk only grew when she looked back to her brother to find him focusing on his feet, his face colouring. _Just as weak to teasing as before_ Arya thought, warmth spreading through her. _Seems like not everything has changed, after all._

At that thought, a queer high-pitched yawn came from behind them. Arya turned to the sound of it, to find the green dragon taking her in with eyes of burnished copper.

 _Oh right_ , Arya thought dumbly. _How in seven hells did I forget they were there?_

Jon saw his sister gawk at the green beast with wonder and awe, and came to stand by her, laying a calming palm on her back. “I know, the first time is daunting isn’t it?”

Vaguely hearing her brother’s voice, her eyes still fixed on the dragon’s gaze, Arya responded quietly. “This isn’t my first time. I met with the black one when you and Her Gr-…I mean Daenerys first arrived at Winterfell.” Her eyes flicked to the black dragon for a brief instant, only to find him napping without a care.

“Drogon is his name, Arya,” Daenerys informed her. “The black one I mean.”

“And the green one,” Jon followed, “his name is Rhaegal. I have to admit, he’s my favourite.”

Drogon opened an eye to Jon and huffed out a breath at that, sending Arya and Daenerys into a fit of giggles. _They aren’t much different from direwolves,_ Arya thought to herself. _They’re far more intelligent than we give them credit for._

“Well I’m sorry boy, but you can’t hog me and your mother both,” Jon retorted, his eyes shining with mirth. 

“Would you like to touch one of them?”, Dany asked her. “They took to your brother well enough, and from what you say you’ve already come face to face with Drogon before. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.”

Arya’s eyes widened, and she was helpless to stop the massive grin that overtook her expression. “I’d love to.”

At the acceptance of the offer, Rhaegal lifted his head off the ground. The snows below his neck and head had melted from the heat of him. _Fire made flesh_ , Arya thought in wonder. Like with Drogon before, Arya took off a glove and hesitantly raised a hand to Rhaegal, who stretched forward to sniff it.

“Rhaegal, this is my sister Arya,” Jon said to him. “She’s very important to me, so try not to eat her!”

“Hilarious,” Dany said flatly. “He’s not stupid Jon, he won’t eat her.”

“Are you saying Drogon wouldn’t have eaten me when I first met him?”

“I was mostly sure that he wouldn’t.”

Jon raised an eyebrow. “Mostly?”

Dany only shrugged. “You were basically a stranger to him, and you’re the first person other than me that he’s tolerated the attention of. But I figured that if he wanted to eat you, he wouldn’t have waited.”

“That inspires confidence,” he said wryly.

“Would you both be quiet?”, Arya snapped, albeit in hushed tones. She and Rhaegal were still focused on each other, gauging one another. Arya wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to it; the intensity of their stares, the heat oozing from them like a living furnace, how absurdly _big_ they were. She could hear her blood rushing through her ears, her heart threatening to burst right out of her chest. They terrified her more than words could say, these magnificent beasts, but they also filled her with a feeling of endless exhilaration. 

Rhaegal must have sensed her admiration, because soon he tilted his snout into her hand, granting her the permission she so desperately wanted. In slow, sure caresses, Arya rubbed his emerald scales with her calloused palms, and felt a hundred different sensations all at once. For every stroke, sparks and small explosions erupted beneath her hand, and she could feel herself be warmed from tip to toe. _Extraordinary_ , Arya thought, eyes wide in wonderment at the creature before her. _Absolutely extraordinary_. As she got somewhat used to the feel of him, she began to notice other things; the stone-like hardness of his scales and the veins of bronze that ran in between them, how his scales were light-coloured on his underside but nearly black at the top. She ran her eyes along every morsel of his features she could find as though she would never get another chance. She was sure she could stand and pet him for the rest of her days – the gods knew she didn’t have the willpower to pull away.

Rhaegal instead made the decision for the both of them, pulling his head back and lying it back down on the ground. He gave her one last glance before he closed his eyes and let the dragon dreams take him. Arya let out a heavy breath she wasn’t aware she was holding, and could only stand there, staring dumbly at him.

“Amazing, isn’t it?”, Dany said, looking at her children with pride.

“I’ve dreamed of dragons since I was little,” Arya blurted out before she even thought the words. She was powerless to stop herself, her mind emptying out into the cold winter air. “I’ve always looked up to Rhaenys and Visenya. Everyone always gives Aegon all the credit for conquering the Seven Kingdoms, but his sisters were just as important. Girls liked their tales of knights and songs and princes, but it was tales of warrior women like Lady Nymeria and Visenya that inspired me.”

Dany flashed her a blinding smile then, before turning to Jon. “I like her a lot.”

“As I expected you would,” Jon said hoarsely, eyes brimming with emotion. _It was important to you, wasn’t it brother?_ Arya realised. _That the two of us got along. That I approved of her and she of me._ It was rare ever seeing her brother this happy. She decided then that for Jon’s sake, she’d try to get to know Daenerys – not the queen, but the woman he’d fallen for.

“Hey, Arya,” Dany called out to her. Her brow was raised and her mouth curled into a smirk, mischief glimmering in her eyes. “Would you like to ride a dragon?”

It took everything in her not to fall on her arse there and then. Riding a dragon was something Arya could have only dreamed of yesterday, even knowing they were there. She had resigned herself to only admiring them from a distance, let alone mounting one. What Daenerys offered her was an opportunity to make a dream come true, and Arya knew that she knew the significance in her offer. It only made it easier to accept her.

Arya looked to Drogon, to find that he was already awake, burning his gaze into her. He looked ready to grant her wish.

It wasn’t even up for discussion. Arya took a deep breath, trying to calm the sheer excitement that threatened to set her alight on the spot.

“It would be an honour.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I've recently opened a tumblr too which I'll probably use mostly for reblogging things that catch my eye and alerting updates on any fics I throw out. My @ is kaarna97 so check me out on there. Or not, up to you rofl
> 
> Also if anyone could tell me how to do better page breaks than ------------ <\-- that? That would be great.


	3. Bullheaded Blacksmith (pt. 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya meets a ghost from her past

In the days since her encounter with her brother and Daenerys in the godswood, Arya had felt much of the tension she was carrying dissipate. She loved Jon and trusted him implicitly. She wholeheartedly believed that he would have sooner died than submit to one who endangered the North and its people. But a part of her feared that he knelt to a facade - a snake in fine fabrics. She'd seen her fair share of those in her time, like Cersei and the Red Woman. Both had been responsible for taking away those most precious to her. _And if we survive this war, I'll be sure to collect the blood debt they owe myself._ What if she betrayed him once she'd gotten her use out of him? Sent him to the grave like her father and brother and her mother before him? He was the last person in the world who deserved to suffer such a fate. She'd do absolutely everything to protect him from it. That mistrust had left her wound taut like a bowstring, leaving her with sleepless nights that she'd use for monitoring the Dragon Queen instead of lying in bed.

Her apprehension had melted away on the back of her scalding black dragon.

That night, when Dany had offered her a chance to fly with her on Drogon, Arya thought her mind had addled. She had followed her with suspicion and the intent to have her dealt with if it came to it. She never would have imagined that she'd instead be greeted with the chance of having a childhood dream realized. Jon had followed them onto the behemoth's back, having not ridden on a dragon himself. Arya was baffled as to how he hadn't leaped at the opportunity after all the time he'd spent in Dany's company.

_"Well I was only on Dragonstone to represent the North's interests as its king. Dany and I were otherwise strangers to each other, and rival monarchs with clashing goals on top of that. It would not have been appropriate to ask for a dragon ride."_

_"I understand that, but you two are so close now. What changed?"_

_Dany cut in then. "Like he said, we weren't enemies but we weren't exactly allies either. Our duty to our people was our priority and our main focus. We couldn't afford to be distracted...but..."_

_"But that didn't mean there wasn't_ something _below the surface," Jon supplied, giving Dany a small smile. "I didn't go south expecting anything from Dany other than her support in the fight against the White Walkers. I came solely as a King with a responsibility to fulfill. I don't know how to word it but...coming to know her awoke a part of me that I thought had died long ago. I didn't even think I was capable of feeling that way anymore."_

_"I feared the same," Dany whispered. "When I began to realize what I felt for you, I didn't really know what to do with them. My main instinct was to push them down. We were in two different places, and I couldn't entertain the thought of complicating things further. But I couldn't ignore the burst of relief and hope that I felt that maybe...maybe my heart wasn't dead after all."_

_All of a sudden, a wave of melancholy swept over Jon's features. "It was after she saved my life that I began to stop holding myself back from her."_

_"Saved your...?", Arya gaped, looking between Jon and Dany. "Weren't you on Dragonstone the entire time?"_

_"No. In order to convince Cersei of the threat beyond the Wall and postpone her war with Dany, I...went beyond the Wall to capture a wight to show her."_

_Arya couldn't restrain the next words that tumbled out of her mouth in a bark. "Are you soft in the head? Seven hells Jon, did you have a death wish?" The idea that Jon was nearly lost to her before she ever got the chance to see him again filled her with fear, relief and anger towards him in equal measure._

_Jon flinched, but didn't argue with her. He hung his head, looking like a weight the size of the world had settled on his shoulders, and Arya immediately regretted how harsh her reaction was. Dany pressed a hand to his cheek and turned him to her, making him meet her gaze._

_"I don't blame you Jon," Dany said softly. "So please, don't blame yourself either."_

_Jon didn't respond. The awkward silence extended until Arya spoke up. "Blame him for what? What happened beyond the Wall?"_

_Jon turned to look at Arya. The pain and guilt in his eyes made Arya's breath catch in her throat._

_"When me and and a handful of men captured a wight beyond the Wall, we were surrounded by the Night King's army on a frozen lake. The dead can't swim, and so they were kept away by a barrier of broken ice that exposed the waters below. In the cold of the True North, however, it didn't take long until the water froze again and they closed in on us. Before we had been trapped on the lake, we had sent a man named Gendry back to Eastwatch to send a raven to Dragonstone."_

...Huh? Who?

_Before Arya could even begin to contemplate what she'd heard, Jon was continuing on. His eyes were far away in remembrance. "There was no chance of survival if Daenerys didn't come to save us. She had everything to lose if she took the risk, I knew, but it was all I could think of. I could only hope for a miracle."_

_"...and she came?"_

_"And she came," Jon said quietly, looking at Dany with adoration glimmering in his eyes. Dany couldn't hold his gaze for a second before her own darted to the floor. "Her, and her three dragons."_

_"Three?", Arya asked, bemused. She looked at Drogon and Rhaegal, wracking her mind for a third dragon that had somehow eluded her memory. "Did a third dragon come to Winterfell? I haven't seen it."_

_"No," Jon mumbled. He could barely look at her._

_"...why?", Arya whispered. Jon had gone mute. She looked to Dany and the answer to her question was written all over her face - the quiver in her lip, the tears in her eyes. "Oh."_

_Dany nodded. "His name was Viserion," she said. Arya hated how her voice shook - how vulnerable she sounded. "He was the cream and gold of the three brothers. He was the smallest, but he was the kindest and-"_

_Her voice broke at that and Jon grabbed and squeezed her hand, trying to tether her. His eyes spoke a thousand sorry's, and Arya understood then._ He blames himself for going. Perhaps if he hadn't gone, or hadn't sent her a plea for help, she'd still have three children instead of two. _Arya couldn't bring herself to agree with him. Yes, the idea of him ranging north of the wall himself was foolish in truth, but Dany had made the decision to fly north and risk her life for him. And Dany felt the same way, she knew._

_Dany calmed herself down and put on a brave face - or at least tried to. "I made it in time to repel the dead before they overwhelmed your brother and his ranging group. I had landed Drogon to let them mount themselves and the captured wight on his back, while Jon fought off the wights who were approaching. It was then that the Night King took action. He wielded a spear of ice and aimed it for Viserion. He threw it with inhuman strength. It struck true...and before I even knew what was happening, Viserion was dead...sinking into the lake."_

_Arya could tell she was fighting tooth and nail to keep her composure, her tight hold on Jon's hand being the only thing keeping her grounded. "Even then, I couldn't save your brother. The Night King was preparing to kill Drogon and so I was forced to retreat. But before I left, I had to watch Jon be dragged into the lake himself by a pack of wights. I thought him dead too but somehow, he returned."_

_Arya's head snapped to Jon. Jon answered the unspoken question. "Uncle Benjen saved me. Sacrificed himself for me to get away."_

_Arya felt a pang in her chest. She didn't even know he was alive to begin with, but the pain of loss choked her heart like a vice anyway._

_"I failed them all," Jon said, so quietly that she almost missed it. "All those I took beyond the Wall. Viserion, Uncle Benjen...I led all of them close to their deaths, if not straight to them." He turned to Dany. "You tried to stop me from going and I refused you. I'm sorry, Dany. I'm so sorry."_

_"You failed no one," Dany said with steel and conviction in her voice. "And you have nothing to be sorry for. It's I who was too blind to trust you from the beginning. If I had, there would have been no reason for us to have risked ourselves beyond the Wall to begin with. The only one who deserves blame here is the Night King. I will not allow you to rip yourself to pieces for something you had no control over. If you look back, you're lost, Jon."_

_Jon held her gaze for a long moment, and finally nodded. The tension in his shoulders was still there, but they had loosened a bit. Arya fixed her gaze on Dany once more._

_"So I have you to thank for protecting my brother too," Arya said in gratitude._

_Dany shook her head in protest. "I didn't-"_

_She couldn't finish the thought before Jon gave her a silencing kiss to the temple before turning to Arya. "Yes, you do. Regardless of how it played out, there's no denying that I would be naught but another thrall in the Night King's army if it wasn't for Dany's intervention. She swore to fight alongside us to save the North, and it was then that I entrusted the North to her."_

_Dany gave him a small smile, but furrowed her brows. "You know you didn't have to. For all my hubris and narrow-mindedness I didn't think I deserved it."_

_"You had never deserved it more, love," Jon responded. "I cared little for your birthright. I needed to know you were someone worth entrusting the lives of my people to. And you proved it to me without a doubt. It had to be done."_

_At that he drew her tightly into his arms and pressed a kiss into her silver hair. "After we'd gone through all of that together, I was too far gone to simply stay cordial with you. I'm not usually that forward with women, as Arya could probably attest to. But I would have burnt to ashes if I didn't act on my feelings then."_

_A blush so deep that Arya could see it in the pale light of dawn settled on Dany's cheeks. "Well I can admit now that my reasons for deciding to sail together with you to White Harbor weren't entirely rooted in logistics."_

_"Neither were mine," Jon purred, a smirk plastered on his face._

_"I'm still here, in case you forgot," Arya pressed. They can save their foreplay for the bedroom. "Are we gonna ride a dragon or not?", she added, suddenly impatient now the grim atmosphere had subsided._

_Dany chuckled, wriggling out of Jon's embrace. "As you command."_

It had been a few days since then and Arya still hadn't shaken off the sheer adrenaline that had that overcome her then. She only needed to close her eyes to feel the bite of the cold air rushing past her and filling her lungs, the flexing of Drogon's muscles below her thighs, his heat that warmed her to the marrow of her bones. She couldn't bite back the shit-eating grin that rose at the memory. The sensations would be forever engraved into her heart, and she knew that even a thousand dragon rides would never be enough to sate her need to soar on the back of power personified. 

She remembered the spectacular view of dawn rising from the east that painted the sky a stunning mix of reds and yellows and violets. The glimmering of the planes of snow in the distance as the light reflected off of them. But more than anything, she would never forget the look on Jon's face as they flew. Time had left her brother's face in an almost perpetual frown, marred by creases of stress and struggle. The weight of the world rested on his shoulders, and it was easy for anyone to see. He looked so much like her father, albeit his hair was darker and his features were a bit more delicate, but the chains of duty that had shackled Ned had come to do the same to him. It saddened Arya - he wasn't a great deal older than she was, and yet he looked like he had experienced more hardship than men thrice his age. And yet, atop Drogon, he had never looked happier. He had left his countless worries and burdens back on solid ground in those moments, and he yelped and gasped and laughed with such carefree abandon. The wrinkles on his forehead seemed to have vanished. He finally looked like the young man he really was. It reminded her of their early days in Winterfell, shooting arrows in the courtyard and causing mischief wherever they went. He truly looked like a boy again. For that, more than anything, Arya felt endless gratitude towards Daenerys. 

In the depths of her thought as she walked through the halls of the keep, she heard her name called out to her. She looked behind her and was greeted to the woman in question.

"Good morn, Daenerys."

"Morning. I was looking for your brother but you're as good company as any." Arya slowed her gait so Dany could fall into step with her. "I wanted someone to accompany me to the forge. I'm not familiar with the blacksmiths there and there's still some tension towards Targaryens as you could imagine. So I thought it would be wise to have someone they _are_ familiar with me so as to settle them somewhat."

"I'm not drilling trainees at the moment so sure, of course. What do you want at the forge?"

"I wanted to see what they could do for my Dothraki cavalry. They use curved blades called arahks instead of Westerosi weaponry like swords. Against the army of the dead, steel only serves to slow them. Dragonglass and Valyrian steel are the only weaponized materials that can kill them. Dragonglass is too brittle to forge entire arahks out of them, but perhaps if they can somehow implement them into regular steel ones they'll do the job just as well."

"I see." Arya paused, recalling a mental note she had made before. "Say, how did you gain control of the entire Dothraki horde? Was it your dragons?"

They rounded a corner and exited the keep as Dany made a devilish grin. "It's quite a tale, and I'd be happy to tell it to you." She hesitated. "Some time over dinner, perhaps?"

Arya gave a reassuring smile. "I'd be glad to."

Dany returned the smile as they entered forge. It was as though she had stepped out of the North and returned to Essos; the heat was sweltering hot, and she could already feel herself beginning to sweat. Around her, at least a dozen men were running about, covered in soot and perspiration, tirelessly forging arrowheads, spear-points and daggers out of the dragonglass that had come from Dragonstone. They hadn't even noticed them enter the place.

Arya looked to Dany. Even in all her layers, she seemed entirely unbothered by the heat. _I suppose between the dragons and spending her life in Essos, she must have gotten used to it._

Her eyes were wandering around, searching. Whatever it was, she seemed to have found it, and began walking towards it. It was then that her presence was made known, and suddenly all work seemed to grind to something of a halt. Everyone seemed powerless to their urge to gawk at her in wonder or fear, or glare at her with thinly-veiled contempt. Regardless of the reaction, Arya felt the need to end it. It's why she was here, wasn't it? But before she could even utter a word, a man's voice with a thick Flea Bottom accent bellowed out into the silence.

"What are you all starin' at? The weapons won't forge 'emselves now will it?"

And just like that, scampering resumed. Arya walked towards Dany and the man who seemed to tower over her, meeting the greetings of 'milady' from the workers with a curt nod or just outright ignoring them. The title grated on her last nerve without fail...

"...does that sound possible to you?"

"Can't be sure, Your Grace," the man responded, with the same accent that had reprimanded the others. "Dragonglass ain't somethin' I'm used to workin' with. Mixing it with steel even less so. But I'll give it a shot. No promises it'll work out though."

Arya kept glancing at the strongly built man as she silently approached. Despite being well over a head taller than her, he couldn't hold her gaze for very long without looking down to fiddle with his apron every now and then.

"I appreciate the effort," she assured. "The Dothraki are quite adept with arrowheads and daggers. Arahks are just what they're most comfortable with, especially on horseback."

"If I can't mix it into the steel, I do think I could at least line their edges in it without much hassle." He met her gaze again and gave a small smile and a shrug. "It's brittle and it might not hold after too much use but it's somethin'."

Dany returned the smile, seemingly feeling his unease. "It _is_ something, Gendry. You have my thanks."

Not the first time, Arya couldn't help the dumb thought of _'Huh?'_ bringing her thoughts to a sudden stop.

Both Dany and the blacksmith turned towards her at the same time. Apparently, she had said it out loud. The man's face was in full view of her now, and the sudden recognition that came to Arya made her breath catch in her throat. His face was more chiseled then the last time she saw him and he donned a thick goatee, but the jet black hair and the striking blue eyes made his identity unmistakable. She was staring at a dead man; a ghost.

And yet he wasn't. He was alive. Very, very alive.

Whatever Arya found in his eyes, it was clear he had found it too. He stared straight back at her, his mouth agape and trying not to blink as though she'd disappear if he did.

Dany looked between Gendry and Arya with her brows knotted in confusion. "Do you know each other?"

Arya broke her gaze at Gendry for a split second to respond to Dany in the affirmative before looking back to him. 

"Gendry. His name's Gendry."

_It's Gendry._

**Author's Note:**

> I'll probably make a number of these in as many scenarios as I can think of. It won't be like a full season 8 story or whatever, but just handfuls of drabbles I suppose. Arya will be the main focus but she'll almost always be involved with one person or another. I'll tag 'em as I go along since this was a rather spontaneous idea of mine.
> 
> Also is it becoming obvious that I love the dragons? Because I do lmao
> 
> As always, feedback would be appreciated!


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